Fake Date
by Dreamin
Summary: Sherlolly AU: Molly's boyfriend has stood her up, again. Guess who comes to her rescue.


A/N: This was inspired by an OTP prompt: you've been stood up, a complete stranger comes over and pretends to be your boyfriend so you can save face. Rated T for language.

Disclaimer: Not mine, it all belongs to the BBC.

* * *

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress, who was quickly losing her patience, asked for the third time.

Molly Hooper did her best to ignore her flushed cheeks and kept her voice steady. "I just need a few more minutes. My boyfriend's on his way, I swear."

The waitress's skeptical look was unmistakable. "Okay, miss." She went to check on another table.

All around her, the women at the other tables were giving her pitying looks. They knew she'd been stood up, she knew she'd been stood up. Really, what was the point in pretending? Mentally cursing Tom, she was about to leave when a man she'd never seen before sat down across from her, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry I'm late, darling," he said, just loudly enough for the other tables to hear without being obvious. "Traffic is insane right now." He lowered his voice to add, "I'm Sherlock. Just play along. Your boyfriend is an utter prick."

Molly blinked at him in surprise then smiled happily. "It's alright, sweetie." She fought back a laugh at his grimace over the endearment. "I knew you'd come sooner or later."

The waitress came back, smiling pleasantly. "I see your boyfriend finally made it. What can I get you?"

Molly, who had memorized the menu forward and backwards by this time, smiled back at her. "I'll have the pasta with chicken and broccoli."

"Make that two," Sherlock said, not even glancing at the menu. "Also, she'll have a glass of your best white wine and I'll have a glass of ice water."

The waitress nodded. "I'll be right back with your drinks." She picked up the two menus then left.

Molly looked at Sherlock, a bit impressed. "How did you know I was going to order wine?"

"I saw you looking at the wine list before I came over," he murmured, smiling. "I was watching you from the bar."

Molly surreptitiously glanced at the other tables. No one was paying attention to them any longer, the drama of her being stood up having passed. She looked back at him. "So why are you only having water? I'm Molly, by the way. Molly Hooper."

"Sherlock Holmes. I rarely drink alcohol, and never on a case."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Case? You're a police detective?"

"Consulting detective," he corrected her gently. "I assist the police and the general public when they have problems they need solving."

"And you're on a case now?"

He smiled a bit. "Yes, the mystery of why anyone would stand up such a charming woman."

She was saved from replying by the waitress with their drinks. After the waitress left again, Molly fiddled with her the stem of her wineglass, sighing sadly. "It's not that mysterious. You were right – my boyfriend, Tom, is an utter prick. This isn't the first time he's done this."

"Why do you let him treat you this way?" Sherlock asked and Molly heard genuine concern in his voice.

"Before I met him, I didn't date much. My work at the hospital keeps me pretty busy. Then there's the fact that I'm a pathologist. A lot of men are turned off by the idea of a girlfriend who works with dead bodies. Tom was the first man in years to actually want a second date. That was six months ago. At first, everything was lovely. We'd go to the pub with his friends…"

"Just his friends, not yours?" He already seemed to know the answer, judging by the expression on his face.

"Just his. They're the type to watch football in a crowded pub. Mine would prefer to watch it at home. We'd take his dog to the park..."

"But you're more of a cat person," he said in understanding. At her surprised look, he added, "A couple of cat hairs on your sleeve. Ginger tabby, from the looks of it."

Molly nodded and sipped her wine. "Most of the time, Tom was great. It's just the past few dates he's either been really late or hasn't shown up at all."

"No calls or texts, I assume."

"Nothing until the next day. He'll give some excuse, apologize profusely, and swear it'll never happen again, but it always does."

"You think he's lost interest in you. That's why you paid special attention to your appearance tonight, you wanted to reignite the spark." She gave him another surprised look and he smiled a bit. "That wrap dress flatters your figure and the wine color works well with your complexion. Your hair, make-up, and nails were all professionally done." He inhaled. "Your perfume is vanilla-based. Scientific testing has proven that men are attracted to perfumes that smell like food. In short, you are doing everything you can to attract him."

She sighed heavily. "Too bad he's not here to appreciate it." She took another sip of her wine.

"He's not, but I am." The look he gave Molly was pure heat.

Molly felt her jaw drop and her cheeks flush. At his amused chuckle, she managed to recover enough to sputter, "Th… thank you…" The arrival of dinner saved her from having to say anything else.

They ate in companionable silence, giving Molly a chance to thoroughly assess Sherlock. She wondered if his black curls were as soft as they looked. His eyes were pale blue-green with flecks of amber, completely different from any she'd seen, not just the color but the intelligence within. The desire there too didn't hurt. When she caught herself admiring his long, elegant fingers, she knew she was in deep.

They talked about work over a shared piece of cheesecake. He amused her with a few of his cases, she intrigued him with some of her tougher autopsies. When the check came, Molly reached for her purse but Sherlock put his hand over the check.

"Let me," he said softly. "It's my way to make up for his callousness." She started to protest but he just smiled. "Please, Molly."

His smile did something pleasant to her insides. "Alright…"

Sherlock paid in cash with a generous tip then escorted Molly out of the restaurant. She was about to hail a cab when Sherlock cleared his throat. She turned to look at him.

"I enjoyed that," he said, running a hand through his curls.

"So did I," Molly said, smiling softly.

"Would you like to have dinner with me again? A real date this time?"

"I would love that."


End file.
